


Don't Burn Down The House (With Me In It)

by GideonGraystairs



Series: Tumblr Fics [8]
Category: The Infernal Devices Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anniversary, Bad Cooking, Baking, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, i love that that's a tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2017-05-18
Packaged: 2018-11-02 03:24:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10935972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GideonGraystairs/pseuds/GideonGraystairs
Summary: At first thought, he decided it must have been Tessa finally using the key they’d given her to cook them a meal of some sorts. Unfortunately― no matter how you looked at it ―that, too, turned out not to be the case.





	Don't Burn Down The House (With Me In It)

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on [Tumblr](http://raphaelsantiago.co.vu) 07/13/2015.
> 
> Requested by otp-heronstairs as a line of dialogue prompt: "Are... are you cooking?" heronstairs

The smell of burning toast drifted through the apartment like a song Jem couldn’t get out of his head. At first sniff, he thought he was having a stroke. Thankfully― or maybe not, depending on what sort of scale you used ―that turned out not to be the case.

What _was_ the case, as Jem discovered when he finally decided to abandon his research paper and go make sure no one was burning down the building, was that someone was currently cluttering about the kitchen. At first thought, he decided it must have been Tessa finally using the key they’d given her to cook them a meal of some sorts. Unfortunately― no matter how you looked at it ―that, too, turned out not to be the case.

“Are you…” Jem trailed off as he finally rounded the corner into the kitchen. The man at the counter didn’t turn around, didn’t so much as acknowledge his presence, too enthralled with whatever awful poison he was concocting. “Are you cooking?”

Will chanced a glance over his shoulder at that, offering his usual partner in crime the biggest grin he’d seen since their (mis)adventures with the second story window of the college they'd attended together (a bad idea on both their parts). Generally speaking, it meant absolutely nothing good was about to happen.

“Will…” Jem began hesitantly, taking a few cautious steps forward. “What exactly are you trying to make?”

The darker-haired boy huffed. “I’m not _trying_ to make anything, Jem. I’m _succeeding_.”

Jem frowned, glancing over Will’s shoulder to catch sight of the suspicious looking black goop spread all over the floured counter. He decided it would probably be best not to comment on the truth of that statement. “Do you need any help?”

Brightening at the words, his boyfriend grinned even wider now and offered him a knife as long as his forearm. “Yes, actually. You can cut this all into squares.”

Jem swallowed. “Right,” he agreed. “Uh, how big?”

“Everything’s better bigger,” Will tossed back with a simpering smirk and exaggerated wink. “But you know that already, don’t you?”

Smacking him with his free hand, he set about cutting the monstrosity into a dozen perfect squares, all the while trying to ignore both the bile rising in his throat and the increasingly alarming smell coming from the stove Will had since focused his attention on.

It wasn’t until he’d finished slicing the disgusting gloop that it occurred to him Will might have been attempting to make cookies. It also occurred to him that today was their first anniversary, which Will hadn’t shut up about since Sunday. He couldn’t help the indulgent smile that found its way to his face at the thought, even as he was forced to actually touch the goop and to put it on a tray in the pre-heated oven.

He turned back to Will when he was done, smile still in place even as he watched Will struggle with what was probably meant to be icing. Sidling up behind him, he wrapped his arms around his waist and leaned forward to peck his cheek, horrendous pink icing and all.

“Thank you,” he whispered softly, waiting patiently for Will to set down the icing and turn to really kiss him. Their lips touched through matching grins, the darker-haired of the two sliding his hands under Jem’s shirt to brush along hot skin.

“You’re welcome,” he whispered back, even as the fire-alarm went off through the apartment.


End file.
